Pack of Secrets, page 21
Stacks of shipping containers came into view.
“That’s the port up ahead,” Dad said, his tone back to business. “Keep your eyes open.”
I leaned closer to Mackiel and whispered, “When I used to fantasize about adventure and travel, this was not what I envisioned.”
He snorted. “Yeah, me neither.”
We wove in and out of rusted shipping containers, and Dad stopped short. I almost planted my face in his back but managed to dodge to the side just in time. Wondering what had so thoroughly captured his attention, I followed his gaze. A galleon was docked at the port, and not just any galleon, either. This thing had to be centuries old. Fully rigged, the weathered monstrosity was coal-black with three enormous masts, their sails furled. A spiked iron ribcage encircled the hull, protecting the entrails of the ship and leaving only the gunports unobstructed. Someone must have dredged it up from the ocean floor, resurrected it through elbow grease, and powered it through nightmares.
My wolf stirred to life and insisted we wanted nothing to do with the ship.
“The Gibil Anzû,” Dad said, his voice full of reverence.
“The what?” I asked.
“Gibil Anzû,” he repeated. “Sumerian for Fiery Stormbird. That’s our ride.”
The alpha resumed his course before I could voice any of my dozen or so concerns, no doubt saving me from getting swatted across the dock for questioning him. I threw Mackiel and Rust a questioning look, but they both shrugged, and Rust gestured for me to follow my father.
The ship was docked facing inland, giving us a decent view of the bow as we approached. The figurehead was a birdlike beast with blazing eyes that followed our progress, causing my skin to prickle with wariness. Iron protruded from its forehead, twisting into a narrow, elongated lance that reminded me of the tusk of a narwhal. Its monstrous beaked maw gaped open, revealing a mouth of fire. The Fiery Stormbird. Fitting name. It was a wonder the entire vessel hadn’t gone up in flames. The ship felt like a living, breathing entity, so I opened my other sight to check for a spirit. Only the crew and the fire inside the figurehead’s mouth possessed glowing tapestries. Interesting.
Mackiel stuck so close to me that I worried I might trip over him. We marched up the gangway to board the ship with the alpha in the lead and Rust pulling up the rear, silently marking Mackiel and me as weak, protected members of our little pack. Or, at least, that was the message other shifters would have gotten from our lineup. But judging by the cerulean skin of the crew working the rigging and littering the deck, we weren’t dealing with shifters. At least not any I’d heard of. Chests and webbed feet bare, the sailors wore faded short pants. Colorful bandanas whipped around their heads and cheeks like flags in the wind. All male, they each wore a cutlass at their waist and a short-necked primitive stringed instrument strapped around their torso. As we neared, I realized their head coverings actually ended at their temples, and what hung below were brightly colored fins that fanned out from their cheeks and jaws. The thin slits of fish gills marred the darker blue skin of their necks, and additional fins hung from their forearms and distended from their calves.
One of the sailors caught me staring and winked. I startled, and he grinned, revealing rows of serrated teeth. Suppressing a shudder, I pressed against Mackiel’s side, leeching comfort from my friend’s presence.
“You sure there wasn’t a warning poster in the portal station for these guys?” I whispered.
“Probably should be,” Mackiel replied.
The captain approached, distinguished by his tricorn hat embellished with barnacles, iron bars, and a small iron key. Like the ship, the hat seemed sentient and evil and smelled like rotten fish. Or maybe that godawful stench was coming from the captain. I couldn’t tell.
He extended a hand to my father and introduced himself. “Captain Oannes.” His whimsical baritone carried a heavy accent, sounding somewhat like the man who’d given us a ride last night. “Welcome aboard the Gibil Anzû.”
The alpha shook the captain’s hand. “Alpha McCarthy of the Evergreen Wolf Pack.”
“You have our conch?” Captain Oannes asked.
The alpha opened his bag and pulled out an ornate iron seashell, smaller than the palm of his hand. Holding it out for inspection, he waited. I stared, wondering if that was what he’d used to call for our ride. I’d read somewhere that blowing on a conch could sound somewhat like a horn. Was that what I’d heard last night?
The attention of every sailor on the ship homed in on the shell. Eyes full of reverence, the captain reached for it, but my father closed his fingers and brought the shell to his chest.
“After we reach our destination,” the alpha said, placing heavy emphasis on the ‘after.’
The captain scowled at him. “There is no need to behave in such a fashion. The sons of Oannes do not go back on our word, wolf. Regardless of when you hand it over, the deal has been struck. The conch in exchange for one sea passage to anywhere in the Red Sea, as promised.”
The alpha held the captain’s glare. “Including the Gulf of Aden.”
The captain inclined his head. “It is as you say.”
“And what about the return voyage?”
“As we told the witch, the conch is a one-way ticket. You will have to secure your own return passage.”
“I have gold and iron to offer,” the alpha said.
“Passage on the Gibil Anzû cannot be purchased,” the captain scoffed, seemingly offended. “It is dangerous for us to tarry in this water. Sea voyage must be earned.”
But the conch seemed like payment. What was the difference? And how had Sereana earned passage from the creepy fish people? Assuming my aunt was the witch he spoke of.
The alpha slid the iron conch back into his bag. “Then I’ll go ahead and hold onto this until we safely reach our destination.”
“Do not think to double-cross us, Alpha McCarthy. Gods have tried and failed. They now sleep at the bottom of the briny deep.”
I hoped he didn’t mean literal gods. Dumping deities into an ocean seemed like a horrible idea. Especially if we were about to cross part of that ocean.
Dad didn’t so much as blink at the threat. “Noted.”
Appeased, the captain waved over the creep who’d winked at me. “Lakhmu will take you to your quarters. We shall set sail within the hour. You are free to roam about the ship but do practice caution. If you or any of your crew falls overboard, we will not stop to fish you out.”
Dad’s nod was curt. “Understood. If one of my people is intentionally injured while on your ship, know that I will not hesitate to burn this motherfecker down.”
Tension charged the air as the two males squared off, locked in a silent snarling contest of testosterone and machismo. Rust pressed in, assault rifle still in hand. Mackiel tightened his grip on his spear and pistol as I watched the sailors surrounding us, prepared to react if a single fishy bastard went for his cutlass.
Captain Oannes’s gaze cut to our guide in a silent order.
Lakhmu stepped in and said, “Follow me.”
Turning on his heel, he headed toward the front end of the boat. With one final glare at the captain, my father gestured for us to follow and trailed after the leering fishman. We slipped through a doorway that put us beneath the foredeck, where circular glass windows let in enough daylight to see the cramped space. Wooden barrels were stacked and wedged between the wall and the railing, forming a narrow walkway to a hatch in the floor. Without so much as a glance to ensure we were still behind him, Lakhmu disappeared down the hole. Shifting the weight of his bag, the alpha gestured for us to stay back. Rifle in hand, he followed Lakhmu, slowly taking each ladder’s rung as if anticipating an attack.
When he hit bottom, the alpha shouted, “Clear.”
I went next down the narrow, steep ladder into darkness, my footsteps echoing ominously. The alpha was waiting, gaze affixed to the shadows beside him when I reached the bottom. As my sight adjusted to the lower light, I made out the form of Lakhmu; his lips split into another toothy leer as he glided forward and reached for me.
I turned my Glock on him.
Or, I would have had Dad not lunged between us. There was a blur of movement as the alpha grabbed the fishman by the wrist and twisted it behind his back, shoving his face into a wooden pillar. With a flash of metal, the alpha’s sword pressed against the side of the fishman’s neck, in position to decapitate the male. “You will not lay a fecking hand on my daughter. You got that?”
I could see the side of Lakhmu’s face, smushed against the pillar as it was. His grin widened like he enjoyed the altercation.
“I was only trying to move her so she did not block the way for the others.”
“I don’t care.” The alpha tightened his grip. “You touch her, you die. That goes for the rest of your crew, too. Spread the word.”
“As you say.” The malicious gleam in Lakhmu’s eyes promised he’d welcome violence. “Now release me so I can show you to your quarters. We cannot set sail until I am above deck with my brothers.”
The alpha withdrew his sword, re-sheathing it. Pulling Lakhmu away from the pillar, he shoved him in the direction opposite of me. The fishman stumbled, then reestablished his footing, releasing an eerie chuckle as he strode down a passageway. My father threw me a worried glance over his shoulder before following the fishman.
Stunned, I stared after them. The alpha had called me his daughter. Sure, that familial title shouldn’t be a big deal, but I’d never heard the words leave his mouth before.
My daughter.
It hit hard, sucker-punching me in the gut. To my father, I was Grace. There were no nicknames and no terms of endearment, not even when I was little. Just Grace. My mind kept trying to normalize my feelings, insisting that the alpha’s words meant nothing, but my heart said otherwise. This felt like progress. It had taken a trip halfway around the world and a run-in with creepy fishmen, but Dad had finally called me his daughter. I knew I should be worried about the sinister ship and its menacing crew, but I was so damn happy I couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at my lips.
The look Mackiel gave me questioned my sanity as he nudged me to follow Dad. We didn’t go far before Lakhmu opened a door and gestured us inside with a ridiculous flourish. As we passed, Mackiel put himself between me and the fishman, earning us another guttural chuckle. We amused the asshole. Good to know.
The musty scent of the room hit me as I took in its triangular shape. We had to be against the bow, right in the front of the ship. Fragmented light drifted in from two portholes so covered in grime I couldn’t see out of them. Dad’s steps stirred up dust, the motes dancing in the faint rays of sunlight as they tickled my nose and made my eyes water. I fought back a sneeze, afraid I wouldn’t be able to stop if I started. Beneath each porthole stood a large wooden trunk bolted to the floor. Four worn, grey linen hammocks hung from the ceiling. A thick layer of dust and grime covered every available surface.
“The sick bay?” the alpha asked, sounding outraged. “You expect us to sleep in the infirmary?”
Slipping into the room behind us, Lakhmu sneered. “It is none of my concern what you do in here, but unless you want to bed down with the crew,” his gaze drifted to me, and wicked humor glinted in his eyes, “this is all we have to offer. Forgive me, Alpha of the Evergreen Pack. We do not often take on passengers. At least, not willing ones.” With that eerie revelation, he turned to leave.
“Can we at least get a broom?” I asked, stopping him by the door. “Maybe some washrags and a bucket of clean water?”
One long finger tapped out a little tune on the wooden frame before he peered at me over his shoulder. “And what would I get in exchange?”
My father growled at the obvious insinuation.
“A clean sick bay,” I replied.
He inclined his head. “As you say.”
I had no clue if that meant yes or no, but I wasn’t about to ask. Either he brought the supplies, or he didn’t. Only time would tell. Dad and Rust stowed their bags in one of the wooden storage boxes, but they kept their rifles on their persons, attached to slings. I holstered my Glock and rushed to the nearest porthole, prying it open so we could get some fresh air. The salty sea breeze had never smelled so good. The view of never-ending ocean waves, on the other hand, was disconcerting. Crossing the room, I threw open the other porthole and was relieved to see the pier right where we’d left it. Shouts came from the deck, and the ship gave a little jerk before pushing away from the dock.
Wood creaked, and I glanced down to find Mackiel stowing his spear and bag in the wooden box beneath the porthole. “Hand me your bag,” he said.
Lowering it from my shoulders, I passed it to him. “Thank you.”
Watching me like I was some mystery he couldn’t solve, he asked, “You okay?”
“Fine.” I shrugged off his concern. “Why?”
“The hallway.”
I frowned. “Nothing happened. The creep didn’t even reach me before the alpha intercepted him.” My gaze snagged on my father, who had retreated into the passageway where he and Rust spoke in hushed tones. In Irish, of course. They returned to their private conversation, keeping secrets from Mackiel and me. So much for progress.
Mackiel shifted uncomfortably. “Don’t talk to that guy again.”
Confused, I stared at him. “What guy?”
“The fish pervert. In fact, you should probably stay down here away from all those bastards. I don’t like the way they stare at you.”
I knew he was only looking out for me, but my wolf’s hackles rose at his overbearing tone. I hadn’t done anything wrong, and I’d be damned if he planned to keep me in this room for the entire trip. The smell alone would drive me crazy. “You know I can defend myself, right?” I asked.
“Normally, yeah, but we have no idea what these guys are capable of, Chip. Just be smart and stay away from them.”
I stared at my best friend, completely floored.
I knew I was a weirdo. If life was a radio, all my packmates were tuned into a station I could never seem to find. Their way of thinking just wasn’t available to me. Although Mackiel wasn’t on my wavelength, he used to understand my frequency. But now… did he think I was stupid? I had more than two brain cells to rub together, which meant I had no intention of interacting with the fishmen, a fact he should damn well know.
“Be smart?” I asked. “Really, Mack? Who do you think you’re talking to right now?”
His jaw tensed. “I saw the way you smiled at his attention.”
Baffled, I gaped at him, shocked at how grossly he’d misread me. “Are you seriously accusing me of flirting with the fish creep?”
Doubt softened his expression, but rather than backing down, he shoved his foot even further into his mouth. “I get it. Females like it when males fight over them, but these guys are bad news. Don’t tempt them.”
“I’m gonna need you to stop talking,” I said, anger spiking as I shook my head in disgust. This couldn’t be happening. Not with Mackiel. He was the one ally I’d always been able to count on.
Frowning, he opened his mouth to continue, but I narrowed my eyes.
“Seriously. Stop.” Lowering my voice so only he could hear, I said, “I smiled because the alpha called me his daughter. He’s never done that before, and I….” The backs of my eyes stung. Blinking, I swallowed past the lump in my throat and tried to get my emotions under control.
Mackiel’s brow furrowed, and again he opened his mouth to speak.
But I wasn’t finished. “And I only asked for cleaning supplies because none of us will be able to sleep in this filth. He was about to leave, and you guys didn’t ask. Did the thought even cross your mind?”
His frown deepened. “The alpha is in charge.”
“So, nobody else can think or speak for themselves?”
His gaze flickered nervously toward the alpha, and he lowered his voice, “Stop saying shit like that. You’re gonna get in trouble.”
Yes, because how dare I make the alpha’s authoritarian methods sound bad. I was so frustrated I could scream. “Mack, you and I used to be a team. We had each other’s backs. When you didn’t think of something, I did, and vice versa. Now, it feels like you don’t remember who I am. What I’m capable of. I’m still the girl who got you out of that tunnel when you set off my aunt’s magical booby trap. I’m the one who broke into the security room to locate the cameras so we could continue to sneak out of the den after the balloon incident.” I turned my gaze back to the receding shoreline. “I’ve never been the girl who wanted the alpha—or anyone else—to fight for me. I just want my pack to accept me. You used to know that.”
Silence stretched between us as I listened to sailors above shout in a language I couldn’t understand. The ship was turning away from the port. We’d be on our way soon. We were so far from home, and I felt more alone and misunderstood than ever. Gently rocking waves soothed away my anger, leaving me with a bone-deep sadness and yearning for the friendship Mackiel and I had once shared. Was it gone now? Nothing more than childhood memories?
He sighed and settled a hand between my shoulder blades. “Hey. Come here.” Sliding his hand over my back, he turned me around. When we were face-to-face, he tugged me to him and hugged me. His warmth and scent wrapped me in comforting nostalgia, and I held on for all I was worth.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. Things are so damn complicated now, and this whole trip has me on edge. I want to do everything I can to protect you.”
I pulled back to meet his gaze. “I don’t need a protector. I need my friend.”
Determination flickered in his eyes. His gaze dipped to my lips, and then the most unexpected thing happened. He kissed me. Warm lips met mine, and I… had no idea what to do. It happened so fast, and I didn’t think I’d encouraged it. Had I sent him some sort of signal that we should kiss? I didn’t mean to. Mackiel was amazing, but he wasn’t…
